The moment that thought formed, I'd already opened a flight booking app.
London. There was an independent label there that had shown interest in me. Small operation, but well-respected in European music circles. Most importantly, it was far enough away, beyond Richard's reach. The next direct flight leaves tomorrow night at eleven. I barely hesitated before hitting purchase.
Then I pulled up the lawyer's contact information.
Andrew had given me her name after our dinner. I laid out my situation—pregnant, divorce finalized, and who the father was. She went quiet for two seconds, then said, "Miss Green, I need to tell you—legally, there's nothing stopping you from leaving the country while pregnant. You have complete freedom of movement. But if he pursues custody later, the timing of your departure could be used against you. I'd advise you to take certain steps before you leave..."
I recorded every word she said, typed it all into my notes, and saved it line by line.
Then I shut off my phone, lay flat on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow night at eleven, I'd disappear from this suffocating place and start over somewhere Richard couldn't touch me.
The thought let me sleep surprisingly well.
But the next afternoon, everything went sideways.
I was crouched in the walk-in closet, stuffing the last of my loose maternity clothes into an old duffel bag, when Richard's voice came from behind me.
"Natalie, you need to explain what this is."
Richard stood in the closet doorway, his frame nearly filling the entire space. He wasn't wearing a suit jacket—just a simple dark gray t-shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing the defined lines of his forearms. But the casual outfit did nothing to diminish the oppressive presence he carried. In his hand, he held a piece of paper—damn it. My flight confirmation for the one-way ticket from Las Vegas to London. How the hell did Richard get his hands on that? I'd hidden it.
"I..." I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I'm just considering an overseas work opportunity. Emma said there's a music festival in the UK looking for independent artists, the pay's good, and..."
"And what?" Richard stepped into the closet. The space that had seemed reasonably large suddenly felt cramped with him in it. "And it just happens to get you far away from me, where you can disappear with the baby? Is that it?"
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stand up straight. Pregnancy had wrecked my balance. I had to grip the closet door for support. "Richard, we need to talk."
"About what?" He looked up, those gray-blue eyes like frozen lakes. "About how you've been sleeping next to mewhile secretly planning your escape? Or should we discuss that lawyer you consulted—Sarah Miller, the one who specializes in international custody disputes? Her fees aren't cheap. Looks like you made good money singing these past few months."
God, how did he know everything?
"You've been spying on me." The words came out through clenched teeth, shaking more than I'd expected.
Richard laughed once, sharp and short. "Do I need to spy on you, Natalie? When you're plotting something, you leave holes everywhere." He moved closer. We were inches apart now, his cologne surrounding me instantly. "Natalie, I told you—you and the baby stay with me. Why can't you ever just listen?"
"Because I'm done with you!" I finally snapped, my voice breaking. "I'm done with you arranging everything, controlling everything, refusing to let anything deviate from your plan! God, because of you, people online are calling me a whore who slept her way to the top! Sure, you deleted the posts and sued everyone, but so what? In everyone's eyes, I'm still nothing without you!"
My voice bounced off the walls, cracking and raw. Tears rushed up, but I bit down hard, refusing to let them fall. Damn it, Natalie, don't cry now. Don't look weak in front of him.
Richard stared at me. "So you think my presence causes you problems? That's what you think of me?"
"What else?" I tried for a mocking smile but failed. "Richard, you never even asked why I want to leave. You just decided I'm staying, then used your methods to make sure I stay. Just like you decide what I wear, where I go, who I see."
"I understand." Richard ripped the ticket to shreds right in front of me. "Natalie, you need to understand something too."
He raised his hand. I thought he was going to touch me and instinctively flinched back. But he only used his fingers to brush away a damp strand of hair from my cheek. He looked at me, thelast trace of warmth draining from those gray-blue eyes. "As long as I want you to stay, nothing you do will matter."
Then he walked out of the closet without looking back.
Richard just left, leaving me standing among shredded paper and half-packed bags, feeling like he'd sucked all the oxygen from the world.
That night, I didn't sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, grotesque nightmares invaded—Richard storming into my London apartment with a group of people, expressionlessly tearing my crying baby from my arms. Or my father weeping, begging me to come home, saying Green Group was finished and it was all my fault.
At four a.m., I couldn't lie down anymore. I walked barefoot to the living room. Outside, Las Vegas's eternal neon stained the sky purple-red. I went to pour myself water when a dull, pulling ache seized my lower abdomen. I immediately clutched my stomach, leaning against the table until the discomfort slowly passed.
Baby, what do you think I should do?
